


Mistakes Like This

by seratonation



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Natasha Romanov, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Sex Pollen, Soulmates, empathic resonance, empathic soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 15:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seratonation/pseuds/seratonation
Summary: While Natasha and Clint are on a mission, they inhale some... strange dust. It makes Natasha feel strange, which resonates with her boyfriends, and it makes everyone worried.





	Mistakes Like This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZepysGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZepysGirl/gifts).



> First of all this is a SUPER SUPER delayed fill for the FTH and I am so sorry. 
> 
> Second thank you to [ZepysGirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ZepysGirl) for donating and for the excellent conversation that resulted in this story. 
> 
> And thirdly, to [caravanslost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caravanslost) for the beta job, for being able to look at the fic when I couldn't anymore. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Check the end of the story for detailed warnings, but I promise, no one does anything they don't want to and consent is discussed continuously. This is in fact a PG rated sex pollen fic.

Mistakes like this

“Five bucks says it's empty,” Clint said, bow at the ready nonetheless.

“I'll raise you,” Natasha replied. “Ten bucks says we find a couple of dead guys.”

She saw the glint of his grin in the darkness. “You’re on,” he said, “I mean, it was just a chemistry lab, they wouldn't need two people for that.”

She rolled her eyes at him, even though he couldn't see her. He laughed softly anyway. 

The rest of the A.I.M. base was empty, doors thrown wide open, as if everyone had left in a hurry. All except for the one door at the end of the hallway. It was shut and looked like it hadn't been disturbed for a long time.

“Command centre?” Clint whispered. 

She nodded, so he moved a step backwards and let her get to work picking the lock while he covered her. There was a click as the lock gave way, but the door didn't open with the first push. She threw her whole weight against the door and it opened with a thud, dirt and cobwebs falling away as she pushed it farther.

It was clear from the state of the room that it hadn’t seen anyone in years. Natasha took one wall while Clint took the other, trying to determine if there was anything worth salvaging. 

“Damn,” Clint said. 

She turned away from the bench she was examining to see him standing with his hands on his hips. “What?” 

“How did you know?” he asked her as she walked around to join him. “Do you have new tech you’re not sharing?” 

She smirked when she saw the two mummified A.I.M. agents lying on the ground. 

“No tech,” she said, “just intuition. Weird how they're lying on top of each other though.”

“Maybe they knew they were going to die and needed to get in one last good bang.”

She gave him a look. “Gross.”

He shrugged. “Just because you don't see the point, doesn't mean everyone is like that.”

“Believe me, I know,” she said, walking back to the bench she’d been inspecting. “Take pictures, we’ll document what we can and—” she paused, then sneezed loudly. 

“That was very un-spylike,” he said, but then he let out a louder sneeze than hers. 

“You were saying?” she said drily.

“I feel kind of lightheaded, maybe we should—” he began, but was interrupted by another sneeze.

“Yup,” she agreed, and turned back to her work. She took pictures of what was readable, her eyes tearing up by this stage. “You done?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” he said, and sneezed again. 

The walk back up was a lot quicker, and a lot quieter, but once they were up on ground level again, she felt better. The setting sun breaking through the autumn leaves gave everything a golden-orange glow. She breathed in deep and let out a sigh. 

“Okay,” Clint said, leaning down, hands on his knees. “That was weird, right?”

She nodded. She still didn't feel right, but they couldn't do anything about it here. “How are you feeling?” she asked him. “Can you fly?”

He stood up straight. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Let’s go home. I'm sure you can feel your boyfriends worrying from here"

"You bet,” she said, rolling her eyes.

They flew home in the Quinjet. She sat back and closed her eyes, but instead of feeling better, by the time they were back at S.H.I.E.L.D. she was feeling worse. She felt a bit feverish and a headache had started to develop just behind her eyes.

Medical took some blood, did a physical exam, and then released them with a handful of antihistamines and instructions to rest.

“That’s it?” Clint asked. 

She shrugged. “I’m not going to let a leave day go to waste, I’ll see you later.”

As she grabbed her bag from her locker, Sam showed up. He gave her a gentle peck on the lips and picked it up for her.

“I can carry that on my own, you know,” she told him.

“I know,” he said, “but this makes me look cool.” He put it over his shoulder, flexing his arms as he did, and smirked at her.

She laughed and rolled her eyes, but another wave of lightheadedness came over her. He must’ve felt it too because he suddenly frowned.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, even though they both knew she was lying. Normally she thought that having empathic soul mates who could see through her bullshit was a good thing, but right now she just wanted to get home with minimal fuss.

“Come on,” he said instead, “let me take you home, put you to bed, and make Bucky cook that soup you love.” 

He held out a hand for her and she took it, feeling more unsteady by the minute. 

***

True to his word, Sam helped her into bed when they got home, pulled the covers up, and wandered off to find Bucky.

Not long after, Steve came to find her. She grinned at him, despite herself. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” she insisted. 

“I know,” he said, climbing into the bed with her, “I thought we could watch a movie. Maybe Star Wars?” He gave her his best simpering look. 

“ _The Force Awakens_ or _Rogue One_?” she asked, resigned. 

“ _Force Awakens_ , obviously,” he said, turning the TV on, and queued up the movie. 

It wasn't long till she started to feel strange again. Too hot, unable to breathe—but wanting to get closer to Steve. She moved her arm slightly so their fingers touched, and she felt her hair stand on end. 

“Nat?” he asked her. “Are you okay?” 

“Mhmm,” she replied, turning away from the movie to run her hand up and down his arm.

“You’re giving off a certain vibe. You don't—usually give off this kind of vibe.”

“Is this what it feels like for you all the time?”

“Not all the time. Wait—Nat—are you sure about this?”

She looked up at him and he pulled back. 

“Nat, your pupils are huge,” he said. “S.H.I.E.L.D. said you inhaled some dust but—”

“Did you know I’m allergic to dust?” she said, creeping closer to him. “I didn't.”

“Nat, I don't think that was dust you inhaled,” he said, pulling back even farther.

“What does it matter?” she said, and went for his mouth. 

He jerked back again and fell off the bed. 

Nat stared at him, suddenly coming to her senses all at once. She retreated back under the covers, pulling them up to her mouth and peeking over them at him. She could feel his confusion and alarm from here, and it upset her to have caused it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her face hot. “I don't know what that was.” 

“I think,” he said and stood up, “I think we need to call someone and figure this out.”

***

Steve made sure to sit over the covers this time, and pulled out his phone to video-call Maria. He put her on the screen when she answered. 

“Maria, have you had any luck identifying what A.I.M. was doing in the lab Natasha and Clint searched?”

“Not yet,” she said looking grim, “but we think we know what it does. We were just about to call you.” She looked at Natasha and then back to Steve. 

“Maria?”

“It heightens sexual attraction,” she said.

“Oh,” Steve said, frowning, “but Nat’s ace?”

Maria nodded. “We’ve never encountered that particular combination before,” she said, then turned to Natasha, “How are you feeling, Romanoff?” 

“If this is what sexual attraction feels like, I hate it.” she said. “How’s Clint?”

“It seems that the more you—” she took another quick glance at Natasha, “—feed it—the worse it gets. Unfortunately we didn’t realize that soon enough with Barton. We’re restraining and sedating him for the time being. Laura’s getting flown to the Tower now.”

Natasha nodded. That made sense.

“What’s your recommendation, Maria?” Steve asked.

“As long as Romanoff doesn’t engage, it shouldn’t get worse and we won’t have to resort to sedation,” she said. “We’re working on figuring out what it actually is, and how to reverse it.”

Steve nodded, back to being all business. “Keep us updated.”

“Will do,” she said, and disconnected the call.

They sat in silence for a whole two minutes before either of them could speak. 

She opened her mouth to start but the door opened and Sam and Bucky walked in. 

“I knew something was off,” Sam said, sitting on the bed in front of Steve. 

Bucky sat in front of her and handed her a bowl of soup with meatballs. 

“You were listening at the door?” she asked, taking it from him, “You made wedding soup?” 

“We didn't want to interrupt,” he replied, “and yeah, I made wedding soup, I know it’s your favourite, even if you won’t admit it.” 

She smiled and shook her head, but instead of replying she took a sip of her soup. 

“So, no sex,” Sam said. “Shouldn't be too hard for you, right?”

“You heard what Maria said,” Steve interjected, “It’s meant to increase sexual attraction, and only gets worse if you encourage it. If it had hit one of us, we’d probably already be like Clint. Seems like a pretty effective weapon, actually.”

“It’s mind-altering,” Bucky said quietly, looking at her. 

“It didn’t feel right,” she agreed, “I _wanted_ it, and I’ve never wanted it. Not like that.” 

They all contemplated the situation in silence for a while, then Steve nodded as if he’d reached a decision on behalf of all of them. 

“We’ll take shifts,” he declared “I’ll go first.”

“No,” she said quickly, “I don't need a babysitter.”

He looked at her doubtfully and she could almost hear him thinking about Clint.

“Okay, fine,” she grumbled. “You already sat with me. You go have something to eat, and someone else can take a turn.” 

“I’ll do it,” Bucky volunteered. “Go have some soup, there’s bread in the bread box to go with it.”

With a last look between them, Steve and Sam left and closed the door behind them. 

“How are you doing, really?” Bucky asked her once they were gone. 

She was tempted to respond with the same briskness as before, an exasperated _I’m fine_ and let it be. But she knew Bucky, and she knew that although he wouldn’t bring it up again, he wouldn’t let it go.

She sighed. “It’s strange,” she replied finally, “There’s this background noise of _wanting_ you, all of you, in a way that feels almost animal. I don’t know what to do with it. How do you handle it?”

“Well, usually mind-altering science dust isn’t making the decision for us,” he said with a gentle smile. “And usually a helping hand makes things better, instead of worse.”

She laughed at that. “Your own or others?” 

He shrugged. “Whichever is available.”

“Oh god,” she cringed. “Usually that’d just be dumb talk but it’s making things worse.”

“Okay,” he said. “Alright. No more talk.”

“No, we can talk,” she said. “Just not about … helping yourself,” she squeezed her eyes shut, “Or others.” She felt suddenly dizzy again. 

“Whoa hey,” he said, and she knew he felt it too. “It’s okay, did you like your soup? Tell me about that.”

She swallowed and nodded. 

“It was good,” she said, “warm and filling and this isn’t helping, Bucky.” She squeezed her eyes shut and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes so that she saw stars. 

“I’m gonna put my hands on your shoulders, okay?” he said. 

She nodded and he didn't hesitate, placing his hands softly on her shoulders and then gently squeezing. “Breathe,” he said, steadily, “Slow, deep breaths.” And he did it himself, allowing his whole body to move with his breathing, and she could feel he was trying to send calming thoughts her way. 

She imitated him, and the first few breaths were shaky, but eventually her breathing evened out, she lowered her hands, and moved closer to him. 

He embraced her, and kept breathing till he felt her completely relax against him. After fifteen minutes or so, with his right arm and shoulder starting to go numb, he shifted.

To his surprise, her grip tightened on him. 

“Don’t leave,” she mumbled into his chest, not looking up at him. 

“I’m not,” he reassured her, “just trying to get comfortable.” He pulled the covers over them and pulled her closer so they were lying in the bed. 

“What if something happens at night?” she asked. 

“It won’t,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

And with that, she allowed herself to finally fall asleep. 

***

She woke up before Bucky did, the sun just rising, casting a pale yellow light over everything in her room. Tony had offered to put blackout shades in the windows, but they’d all refused. There was something nice about waking up to sunlight and soft shadows. 

She stretched away from Bucky, feeling her spine pop before curling back into him. He was warm and breathing softly, still on his back, his hair fanned out around his head. 

She nuzzled at his neck, breathing deep. She felt a warmth below her chest, not as intense as before, not as overwhelming. She put an arm around him and kissed his neck. He sighed with content but didn't wake up, so she trailed her palm down his chest, his waist and side, kissing him again just below his ear. She had seen the others kiss him there when they had sex.

He hummed and she felt a spike of want, and with it came an overwhelming fuzziness. 

Bucky’s eyes snapped open. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away, then getting off the bed entirely. “I just—it didn't feel bad anymore. I wanted to see what it was like. I wanted … to make you happy?”

He sat up, following her around the room with his eyes. “You don't need to do anything like that to make me happy,” he said. “You know that. Are you okay?” 

She nodded, still filled with nervous energy, and then she declared: “I’m going to the gym.” 

He opened his mouth to speak but she waved him off. 

“I can’t stay in bed all day and I need to work off some of this—this whatever it is.” 

She picked up her gym bag and was out the door before he could stop her. 

***

She didn’t know how long she spent on the treadmill before Sam sauntered in. He stopped in front of her, apple slices in one hand and a smoothie in the other. He scrutinized her closely, studying, as if he could see everything, despite her lack of eye contact and her constant movement.

“Good morning,” he said, finally. 

“‘Morning,” she panted back at him. 

“I got your breakfast.”

She shook her head. “I’m not hungry,” she said, but slowed the treadmill to a stop anyway. 

“You should eat something,” he said.

She chugged some water first then reached for the smoothie. 

He pulled it back. “Solid food first,” he said, “Just take it slow.”

She took the bowl of apples from him and went to sit on the bench.

“You okay?” he asked her, then sat next to her at the same close-but-not-too-close distance that was starting to drive her mad. 

She nodded silently. 

“Moye solntse,” Sam said, in his terrible accent. 

She glared at him. “Don't call me that,” she said. 

“Oh?” he said, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

She drank the smoothie in one go. “I’m gonna beat you up is what I’m gonna do,” she said, standing up and moving to the spar pit. He hesitated but when she cocked a finger at him he joined her willingly. 

“I’ll go easy on you,” he said, “With you being sick and all.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said, and launched herself at him. 

After about half an hour they were both flushed and sweaty. It was the most normal she’d felt since she got home, her heart beating fast and sore in the best way possible.

“Okay,” Sam said, swaying from foot to foot, “Last one calls it.”

“Getting tired, old man?” she asked playfully. 

“I’m only three years older than you,” he said, “Just because—” 

But before he could finish, she was on top of him again. They tumbled around until she pinned him to the ground. 

“You were saying?” she said, her breathing coming hard. 

He hooked his leg around her and flipped them so that he was on top. 

“Like I said,” he pressed, and smirked at her. 

She was overcome with need all of a sudden, and rushed up to kiss him before she could overthink it. 

He sunk into it at first, opened his mouth, feelings echoing hers, but then pulled back. 

“Not that I’m against this,” he said, “But maybe we should wait till we’re sure this… whatever it is... has worn off?” 

“But I want this,” she said.

“Okay, but,” he replied, sitting back. “How about we wait, and once we’re sure, we could. If you still wanted to, that is.”

“Sam,” she said, “I know you want this, you’ve always wanted this. Now’s your chance—take advantage.”

He pulled away and sat back, as far away from her as he could, as if she’d burned him. 

“Natasha,” he said, “It’s not like that and you know it. I wouldn't, I would never—”

“I just thought, since I want it now—” she started. 

“No,” he insisted, “The couple of times we did were great, don't get me wrong, but I’m not in it for that. This whole relationship only works if we trust—and I like the way it is. I wouldn’t change that for anything. Tasha—I love _you._ Not the sex we might or might not have, not the Black Widow femme fatale, I love _you_ , and I love being with you, I love cooking breakfast with you, I love movie nights and waking up next to you. I’m not gonna _take advantage_ —”

“Sam,” she said softly, her voice breaking, and he looked up to see her eyes red rimmed. 

He opened his arms and she went to him, curling into his side. “You know none of that matters to us,” he said. “We love _you_ , not what you may or may not do for us. And I know things are a bit weird right now, but we’ll get through this together.”

This, at least, felt right. They had done this a hundred times, curled up into each other, and she felt her anxiety settle at the same time as his anger dwindled away, and comfort settled between them. 

She wasn't sure how long they sat there, in a haze of warm feelings, when Steve walked in. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “But Maria called. I thought you’d want to know. They found a cure.”

Sam moved first, shifting slowly till he was standing, then held a hand out to her. “Come on,” he said, “Let’s get you back to normal.”

She allowed Sam to help her up, and they went to get ready to go to S.H.I.E.L.D. 

***

It took all afternoon to get everything sorted. The S.H.I.E.L.D. medics insisted on taking more blood tests before they would give her anything, and then she had to wait for observation to make sure nothing went awry. 

She sat in the med bay with the breathing mask over her nose and mouth for an hour and then she was sent to the observation room where she found Clint sitting in one of the chairs, looking utterly exhausted. 

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “What happened to you?”

“I know Maria told you already,” he said, warily.

“She did, but I wanted to see what you’d say,” she said, grinning at him.

“You really don't want the gritty details,” he replied, “But things got better when Laura came in.” He shifted uncomfortably. “For a certain degree of better.”

She laughed softly and slid into the chair next to him. “Yeah it was pretty hard.”

He scoffed at her pun. “I’m guessing Maria got to you in time.”

“Yeah,” she said, “Only just.”

“Did your guys try anything? Do I have to beat anyone up?” he asked. 

She laughed. “I can beat up my own problems, Clint,” she said. 

“I know, and probably do a better job,” he said, “But it’s the principle of the thing.”

“I’m fine,” she said, “If anything, I was the asshole.” She covered her face as she reflected on what she’d said and done in the past 24 hours. “I came on to _all_ of them.”

He raised his eyebrows appreciatively. “At the same time?”

“No!” she said. “...But with more time, I might’ve.”

“You got yourself some good guys,” he said. “You’re hard to resist one-on-one.”

“Yeah,” she said thoughtfully, “They’re pretty great.”

***

S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't let them go until late afternoon, and Natasha had a feeling it had more to do with Bucky’s soft but not so gentle talk with the chief medical officer and less with them being actually ready for release.

“Did you wanna go out or something?” Bucky asked her on the way out, a protective arm slung around her shoulders. 

“No,” she said, “I think I’d like some pizza and beer and a movie night.”

“Sounds perfect,” he said, and shot off a text to the group.

They put on _Eye of the Needle_ , an 80s spy movie that Bucky hadn’t seen yet, and they spent the night tearing it apart while tangled up together on the couch.

She didn't really want to move once the movie had finished, but she felt something heavy in her chest, something she needed to say. 

“Listen, guys: I’m really sorry for how I acted before,” she said. “I thought I was thinking clearly, but obviously that wasn't the case.”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Sam said. “We know you and we know when things aren’t right.”

“Now that it’s over,” Bucky asked, “How do you feel? Do you still want to…”

“Not really, no” she said, “I mean, I guess I get what it’s like now for you, but honestly I’m still not really interested, unless you wanted…” she trailed off uncertainly.

“No,” Steve said firmly, and the others shook their heads as well, “What do _you_ want?”

“This,” she said, leaning back against Sam, squeezing Bucky’s arm, and patting Steve’s leg, “And if we all sleep in my bed tonight.”

“Done,” Sam said, and with one movement picked her up bridal style. 

“I could kill you right now,” she warned, and then Bucky moved quickly and had Steve in his arms too. To her surprise, Bucky kept his balance as Steve flailed about.

“Are we going or what?” he asked. 

“I hate you all,” Steve said as they walked to her room. 

“That’s just because you don't know how to kill a man from a princess carry,” Natasha said over Sam’s shoulder and Bucky laughed. 

“I don't want to know,” Steve insisted. 

Bucky dumped him unceremoniously onto the bed and got in next to him, then Sam put her down gently and climbed in behind her. 

“Thanks, guys,” she told them, “For everything.”

“Of course,” Steve said.

“It’s the bare minimum of decency,” Sam added. 

Bucky kissed her forehead. “We love you.”

And she could feel it, a warmth in her chest coming from all of them, as she sighed and slipped off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains an asexual character feeling sexual attraction for the first time. She acts on these urges but her partners are all very quick to pick up on the fact that something is not right and stop her in her tracks. The most that happens is some short kissing.


End file.
